


The Boy Who Was Neglected

by QQI25



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 06:59:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11938761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QQI25/pseuds/QQI25
Summary: Harry realises that his life with the Dursleys wasn't normal when he goes to the Burrow for the first time.





	The Boy Who Was Neglected

**Author's Note:**

> Credits for this idea goes to harryjamesheadcanons on tumblr (http://harryjamesheadcanons.tumblr.com/post/150668065165/imagine-twelve-year-old-harry-not-even-knowing-how), from whom I obtained permission to write this! Go check out their account! It's quite interesting!

Harry wasn’t dumb. Or at least he didn’t like to consider himself dumb. Growing up with the Dursleys really shaped his character. He was constantly vigilant in all aspects of life. He remained on guard mentally, and most of the time physically too. He kinda sheltered his food when he ate, and ate briskly. He didn’t let anything go to waste either. So yeah. He wasn’t dumb. He wasn’t gonna fall for anyone’s tricks and deceptions. 

Except every event that transpired at the Burrow puzzled him to no end. The atmosphere was warm and alive. It wasn’t because there was shouting and cruel laughter, no; it was filled with loving and teasing words, and delighted laughter. There were always people running about laughing or sometimes screaming, but not once did he see a look of fear cross someone’s face. If Harry was going to be honest, it was really disconcerting. Being there threw him off so much, and everything living with the Dursleys taught him went out the window there. It was tiring having to be vigilant around kind people, but there was still a huge huge part of him that distrusted kind words. He knew what mean looked like. It was scary having nice around, because all he expected was cruelty. He kept waiting for the kicker to come, and the kicker never came. 

When he stepped foot into the house with Ron, the first thing he noticed was Percy napping on the couch. It filled him with unease. How could someone fall asleep in the living room? Wasn’t he worried someone would attack him while he was off-guard? He had half a mind to go wake Percy up because he knew that if he ever fell asleep in such an open area, he’d wanna be woken up. But he asked Ron about it, and Ron had just laughed and said Percy fell asleep on the couch all the time. He didn't wake Percy up even if looking at him made Harry uncomfortable, because if what Ron said was true, then as crazy as it sounded to Harry, Percy was probably comfortable falling asleep there. And that wasn't any of his business. 

At dinner that night, nothing was what Harry was used to. He wasn't expected to cook anything, and the cooking wasn't left to just one person. Apparently everyone did their fair share, whether it was setting the table, or helping cook. He'd asked George who did the chores around the house. He reckoned George thought it was a joke or summat, because George looked at him a bit funnily. 

“Sorry to be bothering you George, but who does the chores? Is it Ginny? She's the youngest, right?” he had asked. And George paused what he was doing and looked at Harry when he answered. 

“We all do,” he had replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Oh,” was all Harry had said back, and then he had walked away. Because maybe it was the most obvious thing in the world and he was being a nuisance to George. Maybe everyone else operated that way in their households, and the Dursleys were different because he was Harry and Harry was an inconvenience and he was stopping them from being the way they wanted to be. He hated when he thought like that, because deep down he knew it was true. Even though he felt that their treatment was unfair and he was doing the best he could and he hated that they always cast him aside, he could tell that he _was_ a nuisance, and he _was_ the thing stopping them from being the way they wanted to be. They had always shut down any thoughts about magic. They had always done the best they could to live a drab, ordinary life. But they couldn't. Not when he was around, at least. 

Mrs. Weasley was the main chef. She knew what she was making, and recruited people to help her. That night, she had said that since Harry was their guest, he didn't have to cook. No one complained at that. It was a bit strange, really. If Dudley were here, he would’ve kicked up a storm. It was even stranger to realise that he missed all the chaos and the cruelty. At least then, he knew what to expect. Here, things kept taking him by surprise.

When it was time to eat, they all took their spots at the table. Harry had a spot next to Ron. Everyone started getting what they wanted; Harry took just enough to make the hunger ease. He liked the mashed potatoes and gravy, so he ate that first, naturally. Even though it looked like there was enough for everyone, he didn't wanna take chances and have other people steal his food. 

“Harry, you sure that’s enough food? You look awfully skinny,” Mrs. Weasley had said. 

“Yeah,” he had mumbled, looking down.

“Nonsense. I can tell you’re still able to eat more,” she had tsked. Then she started ladling food onto his plate, making sure to give him some more of the mashed potatoes and gravy than she had the other things. He guessed she had caught on to his strategy. When Mr. Weasley was done eating, he had pulled out _The Daily Prophet_ and started reading. Ginny had noticed, and she had read the front of it with interest. 

“Dad, who’s that man? And what does this article mean?” Harry had tried frantically to gesture at her to cut it out, but she hadn’t looked nor cared. How could she not? Mr. Weasley was sure to be very cross with her. Then Mr. Weasley had put the paper down and looked at Ginny. Oh she was sure to get it now. He was so concerned and anxious for her. 

“I’m sorry, Gin, what was that again?” And then she calmly repeated her questions, losing none of the interest and enthusiasm she had possessed before, and Mr. Weasley had smiled and answered her questions. He said it was nice that she was interested in that sort of stuff, and Ginny had beamed at him. Harry was astonished. Never in a million years would that’ve happened back with the Dursleys. 

The final surprise he encountered that day was when he and Ron were in the bedroom. They were getting ready for bed when Harry heard footsteps. He froze and backtracked through the day’s events. Was there anything that would make either Mr. Weasley or Mrs. Weasley angry with one of them? Was it when he came in? Was it that he didn’t help cook or set the table? Was it for taking more food? 

“Ron,” he had hissed. “Ron, what did we do?” His voice had risen a bit in his worry. Ron’s brow had furrowed, and then Mrs. Weasley walked in. She went to Ron first and hugged him.

“Good night Ron,” she had said. And then Ron had said “Good night Mum” back. Then she turned to Harry and stopped as if assessing him. She proceeded to hug him tightly as well. 

“Good night Harry,” she had said warmly.

“Good night Mrs. Weasley,” he had said back. Then she smiled at the pair of them and walked out of the room. That was not at all what he had expected. Just one day with the Weasleys, and the surprises had already blown his mind. 

The next day had started out pretty normal. They had eaten breakfast as a family and Harry had been included. Then everyone scattered to do whatever. He could hear occasional crashes from Fred and George’s room. But of course it had to be strange again. 

In the afternoon, Mrs. Weasley shooed the kids outside, saying they needed exercise and fresh air. It wasn't like Harry was against it, no, but even if he was, he would've gone outside. He didn't wanna be kicked out, not now, and have nowhere to go. So he went outside and the others were playing some sort of game that didn't seem to have any rhyme or reason. It just involved simple pranks and taunting and chasing, and Harry was on the outskirts of it, an observer, until he wasn't. Fred caught sight of him and starting chasing after him and Harry ran and ran. He was terrified, and he didn't let himself stop in fear of what was gonna happen after. When Dudley and his gang chased Harry like this, there was usually some beating following. Eventually, Fred gave up, and George called Harry’s name out. The twins clapped him on the shoulders and declared Harry the new champion. No one was envious though. They congratulated him and laughed when Fred said he was just too fast and George made a joke about how someone new beat Fred at a game of his own creation. Afterwards as they were heading inside, Ron came up to him and gently bumped Harry’s shoulder gently with his and said good on him for knocking Fred down from his pedestal. Harry wasn't quite sure he knew what it meant, but judging from Ron’s tone, that was a good thing, and he finally let himself relax. Fred wasn't trying to kill him, it was a game, and it was okay that he was the winner. 

That evening, Bill popped by as a surprise and announced that he was going to have dinner with them. He showed his siblings some of his finds and they oohed and ahhed and Harry was once again on the outskirts, not wanting to intrude. And then Bill went up to _Harry_ of all people and talked to him, just one on one. Harry was completely floored. 

“And who might you be?” Bill had inquired, a smile on his face. 

“I-I'm Harry,” he had stuttered in reply. 

“Ah, so you're Ron’s new best mate, aren't ya? Hope you two aren't causing too much trouble around Hogwarts,” Bill had joked good naturedly. 

“No. Not at all.” That was a statement that would turn out to be a lie. And then everyone had gone to the table because Mrs. Weasley declared that dinner was almost ready. Harry helped them set the table that night, because he felt awkward and useless not doing anything. He had taken his seat next to Ron and watched Mrs. Weasley prepare dinner. 

“Oh dear,” she tittered. “I seem to have burnt it. Forgive me, darlings,” she had started then apologetically, “dinner will be a while longer.” Harry had been appalled as he watched her scrape the food into the rubbish. 

“She could've given that to me,” he had said quietly for just Ron to hear. “‘S what I eat with the Dursleys anyway when I mess up.” And then Ron had been just as shocked as Harry had been when he'd seen her dump the food in the bin. 

“Well,” Ron had said finally, “in our home we all get to eat the same food, the food that's served on the table, and we all get to eat as much as we'd like. This is how our family works and this is how it works for you now too, because you are also family and you are also eating here.” Harry had been speechless when his friend said that, speechless and touched. No one had ever ever treated him like family and no one had ever said that to him and no one had ever made him feel welcome as one of their own ‘til he had come to the Burrow. And he realised that the rest of them felt the same way when Mrs. Weasley kissed him good night, and they involved him in his games, and Bill tousled his hair and gave him a hug good bye, and Mr. Weasley treated Harry like one of his own. Yes, perhaps he'd finally found his own family, and perhaps this was it.


End file.
